Thoughts
by aprilhope
Summary: Inspired by JKR's line in OotP, According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else, just a moment I wished for Ron and Hermione. I said romanceangst, but it is a bit funny c'mon, it's Ron!. Oneshot.


A/N: This is my first attempt at any kind of HP fic! I've just been reading so much R/Hr fic lately that I am bursting with love for them and had to give it a try, lol. Takes place toward the end of OotP, after the battle at the Ministry. The first line is JKR's, as are the wonderful characters we love so much.

_**Thoughts **__by AHS_

According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else. Ron Weasley believed it was true. He had been thinking much too much since the previous day, and even the happy thoughts floating amongst the nightmarish ones seemed to knock him flat.

The Healer Witch had been speaking, of course, about the angry purplish red scars that now decorated his arms, as a reminder of fighting a fight of which he had a very muddled memory. _Battle scars_, he told himself, trying to feel cool and tough rather than self-conscious about them. It might have worked... if only it didn't sound so ridiculous... _Attacked by a brain._

Wrestled to the ground by a sodding brain.

It was a scary strong, squeezy little bugger, but come on. It sounded like one of those Muggle things, those "bee movies," like _Attack of the Killer Artichokes From Outer Space_, or some such. His dad, in his fascination with all things Muggle, had come home all excited one day a couple of summers back with a few he'd pilfered from work. His mum had tossed them out ("Looked like rubbish to me") before his dad ever managed to snap up something to play them on, but Ron was pretty sure there had been one called _The Brain That Ate Chicago_. (He still wasn't sure where the bees came in.)

_She_ had told him those movies were made to be laughed at... a joke. He hoped that wasn't what he was. He didn't want to be a joke to her.

Ron never really understood his dad's love of the non-magical world. The Ford Anglia was pretty nifty, once it got the flying added in, but mostly that stuff just seemed more trouble than it was worth. But the Muggle world did give Ron something that turned out to be more magical than anything he'd ever known. Someone. His best friend. She was trouble, but she was worth every bit of it. And, without even knowing it, he had very nearly lost her.

"Hermione."

They were both in the hospital wing back at Hogwarts, and had been for about a day. Though crowded at first... with Neville and Ginny getting their injuries patched up, Harry and Luna getting checked out as well, and all of them sticking around until the end of visiting hours to fill them in on parts of the battle story they'd missed... the only two deemed hurt enough to warrant a real stay were Ron and Hermione.

Which was why it was sometime after midnight, and they were alone together. Well, Umbridge was there across the way, but her (hopefully permanent) state of shock kept her silent and blissfully easy to ignore. But Hermione lay asleep in a bed not seven feet from his, and Ron was finding her completely impossible to ignore. The sound of her breathing lulled him, but not to sleep, as his mind was much too busy with everything he needed to talk to her about.

"Hermione," he whispered again, slightly louder this time. "Wake up."

Her eyes fluttered for a moment, then she sat up quickly and grabbed her wand (now clean of Macnair's eye guts, from where Neville'd stabbed him with it), thinking Ron was alerting her to danger.

_I wish I could have when it counted_, Ron thought, as she looked around, confused. _Merlin, I do._

"Ron?"

"Sorry I scared you. Everything's fine... except..."

Hermione's breathing slowed back to normal. "What is it, Ron?" She wanted to be annoyed with him for waking her up, but after all they'd been through in the last couple of days she couldn't quite manage it.

The light was very dim, but she could see Ron's mouth open to say something... close... open again... close. Another minute or so of that and she gave up, facing away from him and lying back down.

"I'm going back to sleep."

"You almost died."

The choked quality in his voice nearly made her heart stop. She slowly sat back up and turned to look at him, but she couldn't see his face as well as she needed to.

"_Lumos_," she muttered, creating just enough light from her wand to illuminate his pained expression.

"You almost died, Hermione."

Him saying it a second time made her incredibly nervous. "Well... we all almost died, Ron. We're fifth year student witches and wizards, and we were fighting Death Eaters. V-Voldemort himself was there. It was a very dangerous situation..."

Ron shook his head at her very Hermione-like rational explanation. "That's not what I mean."

"What do you mean?" she asked, slightly afraid and unsure why.

He'd been lying there in the dark for too long, with nothing but these thoughts and the sound of her precious breathing, to hold back now.

"I mean that you almost died and I didn't even know! Not until we got here! I wasn't there with you! And even when I was I couldn't help you! Whatever they hit me with had me a total drunken idiot! I was right next to you by the end of it, and they weren't even sure you had a pulse, and I was just laughingand thinking 'Daft girl, Hermione, sleeping in the middle of a battle"! If you were dead and I'd been _laughing_..."

As Ron had started to rage, Hermione quietly placed a silencing charm on the room so that he could get out everything he needed to, as loudly as he needed to. Then she tried not to cry, until she saw - with some shock - that he was. She couldn't remember ever seeing Ron cry before. Even when his dad was bitten by that snake and barely holding on, she only ever saw his eyes very watery. She got up out of her bed... though moving still hurt her quite a bit, and her ribs ached extra from sitting up so fast when she awoke... walked over to his, and sat down beside him. A little space was left between, but she was close enough to take his hand and hold it tightly.

He looked up in surprise when he felt her hand clasp his. He felt bad when he saw the tears in her eyes, and horrified when he realized he'd shed a couple of his own. Ron thought he saw her other hand start to reach out to him, to wipe them away maybe, and he quickly rubbed his hand over his face before she could. It would be too much for him to take at the moment. He wasn't done.

"Twice," he sighed.

"What?"

"You almost died _twice_. One of those bastards was halfway through _Avada Kedavra_, wand pointed right at you," Ron said, dropping his voice to an uncomfortable whisper on the words of the Killing Curse. "Harry told me."

"But... he didn't finish it," was all Hermione could think of to say.

"Yeah, Harry saved you. And then he and Neville saved you again when you did get hit. And I'm so damn grateful they were there, and Harry's better at that kind of thing than I am anyway, but I just can't help..."

"You wish you had been the one to save me?" Hermione asked, softly amazed.

Ron put his head in his hands. "Not half selfish, am I?"

While Ron was thinking how disgusted she must be with him, Hermione was thinking it was the most wonderful thing she'd ever heard.

"No, I think you're..."

"But that's not... that's not what's really eating me, though."

"It's not?"

"No, it's... I don't care who your hero was, as long as you're okay. I think it's just... that you could come so close to dying... without me."

Just as Ron was thinking how that sounded even worse than what he said before, all of a sudden there was no space between him and Hermione anymore, and her head was resting upon his shoulder.

"Once we got here," he continued, "that stupid spell I was under wore off pretty quickly. I saw you, over there." He pointed to her bed. "You were still unconscious. But it wasn't funny anymore. I didn't know what they'd done to you, and Madam Pomfrey wouldn't tell me anything."

"She probably didn't know. Best I can tell, my diagnosis is a lot of guesswork. That's why I have to take ten different potions every day." Hermione was still rather scared, if she was honest, about the unknown damage Dolohov's curse might have caused. Would her own talent for casting spells prove adversely affected, or perhaps would it pop up as a physical problem ten years down the road? She did not share these thoughts with Ron, having felt him tense at just the mention of her daily potions.

"I'm sorry you got hurt," he said simply. "You were brilliant, you know that? Smart and brave. More than ever before."

"Thank you." She snuggled almost imperceptibly closer to him and wondered if he noticed. "But, you know... I might not have been that brave if I had seen what happened to you."

He noticed. He tentatively placed his hand on her shoulder. "Wha... what do you mean?"

"I mean... _you_ almost died, Ron. I don't know how many times. You were hit with a spell that could have done anything to you..."

"It made me act like I'd had too much Firewhiskey," he downplayed. "If not for the life or death situation, it probably would have been hilarious."

"Ginny said you were white as a sheet and had blood coming out of your mouth. That's not funny to me. And neither is you nearly suffocating to death."

"Right, right. The killer brain, which I _Accio_'d right over to attack myself with. Maybe all it wanted was a hug..."

Hermione smacked Ron on the arm. "You're allowed to get upset about me being in danger, but I'm not allowed to for you? How is that fair, R-... Are you okay?"

He was pulling a face and holding the assaulted arm. "Fine, just a little sore."

Hermione took hold of his arm carefully and pulled up the loose material of his sleeve. She then did the same with his other arm. "Oh, Ron, I'm sorry," she whispered sadly.

"I didn't think they were _that_ bad," he tried, but failed, to laugh. "Guess I was wrong." He went to pull the sleeves back down but she stopped him.

"No, Ron, I just... hadn't seen them before." She touched the tip of her index finger to one scar that ran along the warm skin of his left bicep, tracing it with care. "Do they hurt?"

Concentrating on not shivering under her touch, Ron answered honestly. "A bit, yeah." When she moved to pull her hands away, he amended. "But that doesn't... hurt. That's... that's good."

"Badges of courage, that's what they are," said Hermione with a proud smile.

"Hey, I like that. Seriously, Pomfrey's got this _Oblivious Unction_ stuff that's supposed to make them better, but I think they're semi-permanent at least. So, thanks... for cheering me up." He heard what he'd said and felt guilty again. "That's wrong, isn't it? To need cheering over something so stupid, when Harry's just lost Sirius? Not to mention that prophecy he never got to hear?"

Hermione bowed her head for a moment, thinking of Sirius, and of how Harry had just lost his third parent. "I know, but it's not wrong to feel... whatever you feel. Sometimes you just... can't help it."

When she raised her head again, somehow Ron's face was rather closer than it had been. Had he done that on purpose? Either way, she stumbled on her last few words. It didn't seem right that she could get so lost in those blue eyes she had been looking into for five years now. She was actually becoming less and less immune to them over time.

"Yeah, sometimes you try for years... to not feel something for someone... maybe because you're afraid you might lose... the best friend you ever had."

Hermione might have gotten lost again, this time in the deliciously deep and rumbly sound of his voice, but his words were too important. She knew he wasn't talking about Harry. "You'd rather bury all your thoughts of more than risk not having them in your life every day."

Ron had been so scared she would look at him like he was a nutter, after he said that "try for years" bit, he was prepared to act like the entire conversation had been him sleepwalking... or sleeptalking, more like. But then she said that, like she knew what he was talking about and maybe even... felt the same. Now he was scared for an entirely different reason.

She was biting her lip (in what he hoped was a good kind of nervousness). He reached a shaky hand to cup her face, touched the pad of his thumb to her bottom lip, and gently tugged it free. She made this little sound, this sigh, as his thumb moved to stroke her cheekbone, and that was it.

Ron kissed Hermione, softly. Maybe harder was called for after all these years, but he didn't want to hurt her. He brushed his lips against hers, then adding a little pressure, with a quick thought that maybe all those dreams where he imagined them doing this had served as helpful practice. And when she opened her sweet mouth and sucked his bottom lip inside, he had a thought that nothing had ever felt this good, and he would give up Quidditch, Chocolate Frogs, anything, as long as he could keep kissing Hermione.

She felt her head spinning. She couldn't believe he had finally done what she'd been hoping he would for the past three years. And this was no kind of kiss he could play off later, if there was such a thing. It wasn't casual. There was no joking around here. It was... reverent. Almost worshipping. She didn't know much about kissing, but she knew he was beautiful and she had never felt cherished like this.

Ron had one hand on her waist, the other gone from her cheek into her messy ponytail, which he took down to run his fingers through her wild curly mane. Hermione's right hand dove gladly into Ron's thick red hair... which she never had much of a chance to touch, even as his friend, because tousling just wasn't the sort of thing she did... while her left hesitated for just a moment before nervously resting on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast and knowing she'd never been more fully alive.

When both pulled back from the kiss, they smiled at each other shyly, giggling when Ron said, "WOW." He brought her back into him in a hug, her arms wrapped around him and her face pressed into the crook of his neck.

"What are you thinking right now?"

"I'm thinking you always smell really good and I'm happy I finally get to smell you properly close up," Hermione answered Ron, slightly muffled, as she took a big breath in.

Ron was surprised it took this long for him to turn the color of a tomato tonight. He was embarrassed yet pleased.

"Why? What are you thinking?" Hermione asked him back.

"I'm thinking you give much better hugs than that _other_ brain did."

She fixed him with a threatening eyebrow and stifled her laughter. "Shut up, Ronald."

"That was a compliment! You're much prettier, too! There! Two compliments!"

She gave in this time, with laughter soon swallowed by a yawn.

"You need to get some rest, young lady."

"Well, I was, but this insanely good kisser woke me up."

Ron grinned and puffed his chest out. "Oh, that's all right then... But seriously, you should go to bed," he told her, though reluctantly.

"I'm already in a bed," Hermione replied, all innocence.

"Hermione Granger!" cried Ron, in mock shock. "What would the neighbors say?" He motioned towards Umbridge.

"All right, all right," she grumbled, laughing again. Before she could stand, however, Ron had scooped her up in his arms and walked her over to her own bed. He laid her down gently and pulled her blankets back over her.

"I'm pretty certain I could have walked that far," she said, though being carried by Ron was lovely.

"Oh no. Your knees might have gone weak from, you know... getting snogged by me. I didn't think you should risk it." He bent down and kissed her forehead. "I like those pyjamas, by the way. Dead sexy."

The skin of her forehead still tingling, she looked down at her pyjamas... ones her mum and dad had sent... and burst forth with fresh laughter. They had Snoopy all over them.

Ron had just climbed back into his own bed, wondering if he was the world's biggest arse for not keeping Hermione in his bed with him, when suddenly he felt the bed in question _moving_. Towards Hermione's bed. His slid into place right next to hers, so that it was almost like one big one.

"Did I do that with my mind??" Ron pondered aloud, ready to be impressed with himself.

"Actually, I did it with this," Hermione admitted, showing her wand before putting it back on the bedside table.

He looked at her questioningly. She reached for his hand, which was now close enough to hold. Holding Ron, some part of him, she knew this wasn't just a dream. She knew they would still have this in the morning, and that meant she could sleep. He squeezed her hand in understanding.

The room now dark again called forth the thoughts that had brought all this out in Ron in the first place. He concentrated on how warm her hand was.

Hermione could tell he was still thinking about her dying. Still feeling he should have been there somehow. He was gripping her hand, not painfully, but probably more desperately than he realized.

"Ron, I was terrified when I looked around and you weren't there, when we got separated. I was scared for all of you, but especially you. And by that I mean... I was scared for me, if anything happened to you. But now I think it was probably a good thing we weren't together."

"How can you say that?"

"Because if I had seen you get hurt, I would have lost my mind. I have to be a cool head, Ron. I have to remember obscure spells and think of clever things to get us out of these situations. If you were hurt, I would have been only thinking about you. And don't say what about Harry or any of the others, because you know it's not the same."

"I know."

"And I'm mostly glad that you weren't there to see me get hit. Because I'm afraid of what you might have done."

"You think I'd have made things worse?"

"Yes, actually. You know what Harry did when one of the Death Eaters tried to use _Avada Kedavra_? He jumped at him and knocked him down. I can't help but picture, with you there instead of Harry, you jumping in front of _me_ to save me... and taking the curse yourself." Her voice had become tiny and could barely get the final words out. "Am I wrong?"

Ron couldn't tell her yes. He'd had the same thought. "Probably not."

Hermione turned on her side, meeting his eyes through the dark. "You are my hero. Every day, you are. But, Ron, _please_... please don't ever be _that_ much my hero."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, keeping it there. But he spoke no reply. Her eyes closed in spite of herself, giving in to slumber, with the only resonating thought in her mind matched to his.

Once sleep came for her, he could attempt it as well. This thought could make for sweet dreams at last. This thought, this truth, that had left a mark on him more lasting than any surface scar.

_I love you._


End file.
